


Etched

by Sometimesyoufly (faile02)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel (Movies), The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-03
Updated: 2013-03-03
Packaged: 2017-12-04 05:04:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/706884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faile02/pseuds/Sometimesyoufly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes he looks at people in the 21st century, from the men in slim cut business suits, girls with skirts that skate the floor and flowers in their hair, all the way to punk rock kids with bright green mohawks and the words ‘straight edge’ tattooed across their skin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Etched

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: I started to watch Puncture yesterday, and about 22 minutes in, I had to stop and write this. I was completely distracted by Chris Evans, his amazing chest, and all his gorgeous tattoos.
> 
> (And I know the graphic doesn't quite match. I'm a little out of practice, in the world of Photoshop.)

There's not much Steve regrets in his life.

(Crashing, freezing, dying. Those are things that keep him awake most nights.)

There are things he wishes for. More time with his mother, finding Bucky just little bit faster, holding on just a little tighter.

(One last dance. A first date.)

Sometimes he looks at people in the 21st century, from the men in slim cut business suits, girls with skirts that skate the floor and flowers in their hair, all the way to punk rock kids with bright green mohawks and the words 'straight edge' tattooed across their skin. 

(He had to ask what that meant, a shy question spoken softly into Darcy's hair during a movie. While there was a smile in her voice, Steve was grateful that she never laughed at him, just answered in her sure tone.)

Steve knows that staring is impolite, that people will think he's judging or mocking them, that it's rude to stare at the girl with impossibly short shorts, a humming bird peeking out from under fabric, lines of flowers and words following it. He just can't help it. There's so much art in the world now, painted directly on skin, from the way Darcy applies her makeup on a night out, to the ink that stains the skin of the people around him.

There are sketch books and pencils and pens scattered throughout his apartment, and there are times when he starts to sketch, only to realize he's copying the lines and textures and colors of the tattoos floating around the city.

There's no way for Captain America to get tattooed. Not with the serum and his skin. The needles break. Tony had to invent something strong enough to pierce Steve's skin just for medical reasons.

(It hurt too, more than getting shot ever did. But he's Captain America, so Steve just smiled through the pain, told Tony it's fine, keep testing it, I can't feel a thing.)

It takes awhile for Darcy to realize what he's doing. The patterns and the inked drawings aren't the usual sketches she's caught him at, more than once. She lets him design a tattoo for her, a phoenix rising from the ashes, an art nouveau design that's permanently placed on her hip bone, phoenix head just cresting the top of her jeans. Steve holds her hand, a ward against the pain, and late at night, after it's healed, he traces the lines on bare skin, kisses his way across it, loves that his work will always be a part of her.

It's not enough though, not enough for Steve Rogers and the artist that hides underneath the soldier. He still itches and though maybe it's possible for Tony to make a tattoo gun that would work on him, Steve's not sure he's willing to find out. 

Darcy's the one that figures it out. It's after a shower, Steve wearing just a pair of sweats, Darcy lounging in front of the TV, a package of sharpies spilled out on the table.

"Come here," she tells him, making him sit on the floor between her legs. The TV is playing Pawn Stars, a show he never expected to like, but can't seem to stop watching, and he knows that she put it on for him. 

The smell of permanent marker hits him, and the feel of a cold felt tip on his shoulder and then she's drawing away. Darcy's not a proper artist, but she's good at the abstract, and later, in the mirror, Steve looks at the lines drawn across his shoulder, around his chest, and down his arm, and grins at his reflection. The lines will fade, he knows, but Darcy will be there, marker in hand, ready for something new.

(Sometimes, Steve thinks, this is all he needs in life. Art and creation and a woman who loves him at his side. He has no regrets.)

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to my tumblr: [sometimesyoufly](http://sometimesyoufly.tumblr.com)


End file.
